


Renaissance of Sara Lance

by AerisaHale (KarasuKyra)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Smoaking Canary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarasuKyra/pseuds/AerisaHale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara and Felicity knew each other in high school, long before Sara Lance was lost on the Queen's Gambit. When Sara returns to Starling City, she is shocked to see the blonde girl she knew in her old life. Will an old fling turn into something more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Renaissance of Sara Lance

Sara’s first time in the Foundry is when she sees the blonde from high school. She doesn’t quite remember her so much as the feel of smooth skin under her hands. Her name is Felicity Smoak, and how could Sara have forgotten? This woman was bound for bigger and better things, even back then.

The look of realization crosses Felicity’s face and Sara keeps her own carefully blank. The assassin realizes that she is just that: she is Ta-er al-Sahfer, not the girl Felicity knew in high school. Sara refused to lead this sweet girl on.

As weeks go by, she trains and fights and trains some more. The exercise clears her mind and lets her get her aggression out. As a bonus, all the time in the Foundry gives her the chance to watch Felicity, both in her element and out of it.

They don’t talk often, but she can tell Felicity wants to say something to her and Sara’s not sure she isn’t just infatuated with who she thinks Sara is. The assassin knows she is not a good person and she is loathe to ruin the light inside of Felicity.

After a long night of sparring, it’s just Sara and Oliver left in the Foundry. They’re putting the weights and batons back in their place when Oliver turns to her with his arms crossed.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Are you going to talk to her? She’s practically crawling out of her skin.”

Sara pressed her lips together. “I’m not entirely convinced she’s interested in me so much as the girl from high school. You know better than most that I’m not Sara Lance anymore.”

Oliver’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “You are still Sara Lance.”

Sara doesn’t respond.

“Well, I never thought I of all people would be telling you this, but why don’t you find a hobby? You mope around here and I think you’d be happier doing something else–on the side, at least!”

“I’ll think about it, Ollie.”

“Both things?”

“Both things.”

-

She puts a pottery wheel and a kiln in the Foundry since she doesn’t have a house. Nyssa taught her Islamic pottery while she was in Nanda Parbat and it was close to the only non-combative way she knew how to bide her time. She was a bit out of practice but she was talented enough at it, to have sold it in the Xigaze markets and often sold to the monastery there.

Her hands folded around the clay, pressing and molding it, when she heard the door open and someone walk down the stairs. The light footsteps indicated to her that it was Felicity. She turned when the blonde got to the bottom step.

She stood and watched Felicity approach her. It looked like she was trying to say something, but couldn’t find the words. Sara took the problem off her hands. “I remember you.”

Felicity squeaked and a blush covered her cheeks. Sara remembered tha particular noise from an incident at prom in the bathroom. A curl of lust went through her.

“I’ve seen the way you watch me,” Sara said, “and I’m all for it.”

Felicity’s eyes widened. “R-Really?”

“Yes, but, under one condition: You have to understand, I’m not that girl that fingered you in high school. I am no longer Sara Lance. Sara Lance died a long time ago. I am only Ta-er al-Sahfer,” the Arabic curls as naturally off her tongue as her mother language.

Felicity nodded. “Okay, but I’ll make you a deal. You tell me how you came to be The Beloved, and I’ll tell you why you’re still Sara Lance.”

Oliver’s words echoed through Sara and she smiled and kissed Felicity. “Okay, nuur il-‘en. You have a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> From what I gathered, nuur il-'en is a Palestinian Arabic term of endearment for 'my soul' literally meaning 'light of my eyes'. Please correct me if I'm wrong.


End file.
